


Interlude: A Very Malfoy Christmas

by inspiration_assaulted



Series: Building a Home [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dementors (Harry Potter) - Freeform, M/M, Past Torture, Scars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiration_assaulted/pseuds/inspiration_assaulted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the terms of the Wizengamot, the Malfoys are only permitted to see each other at Christmas. Harry and Draco spend their first Christmas together at Malfoy Manor. Of course, nothing around Harry Potter is ever easy or straight-forward.</p><p>Takes place between the events of Guardianship and its sequel, The Dragon's Mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Malfoy Manor

Whoever said Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year was an idiot, Harry decided. Christmas was clichéd, overdone, expensive, and most of all, incredibly stressful for the Potter household. On top of the Midwinter Court of the Wizengamot on the twenty-first, gifts had to be bought, decorations put up (Harry really wondered about that part – why decorate when no one comes over to see? – but Draco insisted), and decisions had to be made.

Very important decisions.

“Are you sure about it, though?”

Harry groaned. Draco had only asked him a hundred times before, and his answer was the same every time.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied tiredly. “I trust the Manor’s wards to keep him safe, and I trust your mother to keep him a secret for a while. And neither of them are going with us to see your father in that godforsaken hole, alright?”

“If you’re sure.” Draco looked anything but sure. Harry caught his hand, pressing pale knuckles to his lips.

“I’m absolutely sure. Please, trust me on this, Draco. Narcissa will be overjoyed to meet Reggie. I have a feeling she’d be the type to spoil grandkids rotten.” He pulled Draco into his arms, thrilled and frustrated at how protective the man was of Harry’s sons. “Look, if it worries you that much, I’ll ask about bringing Charlie, too. You know he’d sooner die than let Reggie get hurt, and he can take care of him if we run into problems, yeah?”

“Alright,” Draco acquiesced, relaxing into Harry’s arms. “You’re absolutely right, Mother will be thrilled.” He paused, frowning as though something had suddenly occurred to him. “What should they call her?”

Here, Harry paused. This was a delicate topic, for all it seemed to be an innocent question. The boys already called Draco ‘Father,’ but giving Narcissa a family name seemed like more, somehow.

“How about,” he offered slowly, “they call her ’Grandmére’?” Draco’s blazing eyes met his, searching. Harry let all his honesty and feelings show, hoping to make Draco understand without words.

Letting Teddy and Reggie call Draco ‘Father’ might have been interpreted as an act of convenience. After all, he spent his days at Grimmauld Place, taking care of them. The boys were too young to really understand why he had suddenly moved in with them, or to know anything about the War that didn’t directly pertain to them. Plus, with Harry and Draco now involved together, it seemed to be an obvious choice.

But to extend their little family to Draco’s mother (the matter of his father would come later, once he was released) was not just ease. It would not be beyond three-year-old boys to understand that she was only Draco’s mother and to call her Narcissa or some nickname. To have them refer to her as their grandmother, and to do so in a manner that recognised the French roots of the Malfoy family, was a subtle social act that was as blaring to Slytherins as a full-colour add in the _Prophet_ would be to Gryffindor Muggleborns.

Harry was announcing his intentions to one day combine their families. He wished to marry Draco.

* * *

 

The meaning behind Harry’s simple words was obvious to Draco, as was the love and honesty shining in his eyes, and it made his breath catch.

Could he really…? No, surely he couldn’t be serious! But there was no mistaking the emotion in his eyes, or the stiff and tentative way he held himself, as though waiting for rejection.

“Yes,” Draco managed to breath out, “that sounds perfect.” He ducked his head to kiss Harry and could feel the man smiling against his lips with complete joy. Pretending not to have tears welling in his eyes, Draco turned the conversation to another, slightly related, topic.

“And you’re sure about going to see my father?”

Harry sighed, and Draco smiled ruefully at how much it must seem like he was nagging his love, but he was worried all the same. Lucius Malfoy and Harry Potter were not known for their pleasant meetings and civility towards each other, after all.

“I am, love,” Harry replied strongly. “I’m not hiding. I plan on standing there and telling him exactly how much I love you, and I will take any reaction he has to it. Even if he curses me every time we meet, I will always be polite and kind to your father.”

“Some people would say you were trying to prove you were the better man,” Draco teased, though he was secretly touched. Harry just grinned.

“Well, I would say I wasn’t the better man, just trying to show I am a different man now.”

“And you would be right, you know.” Draco nuzzled his forehead into Harry’s temple. “Not even my father could find anything wrong with you now.”

They stood silent for a long moment, simply happy to be around each other, before Harry broke away.

“I’d best go Floo Charlie, then, and ask if he feels up for a refined, Malfoy kind of Christmas.” Draco grimaced, remembering that Charlie had come in on holiday from Romania to stay with his family. “It’s alright, really. It will make us both feel better to have Charlie there, and no one can fault us for that, yeah? I promise, Molly will understand.” Harry smiled. “Besides, we’ll have him back by Boxing Day, anyway!”

* * *

Harry was awoken by a lot of shouting and a heavy weight impacting his chest, forcing the air out of him. He opened sleep-crusted eyes to see Reggie sitting on him.

“Wake up, Daddy! It’s Christmas Eve, we’re goin’ on a trip today!” the excited boy crowed. Harry had never seen his son so energetic, but he supposed it had to do with the fact that Reggie would be out of the house and meeting new people for the first time in years today.

Draco stood beside the bed, smirking. He had Teddy perched on his back, the boy’s little hands clasped around his neck. Not for the first time, Harry was amazed at how much effort the little Metamorphmagus had put into looking like their son.

“Why do I feel like you’re to blame in all this?” Harry teased, narrowing his eyes at the man. Draco gave him an utterly innocent expression that fooled no one.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied loftily. “Now, up and dressed! No sense in making Mother wait when she must be missing me.”

Harry laughed and set Reggie off to the side so he could sit up, sure that Draco missed his mother just as much. He didn’t notice the little hand on his chest.

“Daddy, what happened to you?”

Too late, Harry remembered that he didn’t have a shirt on, and the boys had never seen him without one. Reggie was looking at him with worry in his wide eyes, touching the chain link pattern of scars where they crossed over his heart. Teddy too was staring, and Draco looked at him in sadness and deep anger for what had been done to him.

“Bad things,” he explained. “A lot of very bad things that I’ll tell you about when you get older, alright?” Teddy nodded, too excited about the trip to stay curious for long, but Reggie didn’t. Harry knew his quiet, intelligent little boy was satisfied with the promise of ‘one day.’

 _> >After the War, some very bad and angry people took me away,<<_ he explained, keeping the words in Parseltongue so only Reggie would know. _> >They tried to hurt me, and that’s what these scars are from. They kept me in a cage for a while, and they let me out on the night you were born. They wanted to keep you and make you into an evil wizard, you see. But you are my son, and I wouldn’t let them have you, so I took you away from the bad people so I could be your daddy and raise you to be a good person, alright?<<_

Reggie looked at him very seriously, thinking about everything. Harry wondered if his solemnness came from his unique heritage or if it was just part of his personality. Reggie had never been the carefree, excitable, typical child Teddy was. His accelerated development certainly came from the ritual. Magical children developed faster than Muggles, of course, but Reggie was more advanced than Teddy, even with the six-month age difference. He could read at a level several years above him, and he showed a lot of talent in Potioneering and French, which delighted Draco.

 _> >Do you hate me?<<_ Reggie asked very softly. Harry looked at him in surprise.

 _> >Why would I hate you?<<_ Reggie twisted his hands in his lap, not meeting his father’s eyes.

 _> >The bad people took you away because of me,<<_ he answered, staring at his scars again. _> >That’s why they hurt you.<<_

Harry took his son’s chin in his fingers, making Reggie meet his eyes.

 _> >Regulus Potter,<<_ he said seriously, _> >I will never hate you. You are my son, and I will always love you. What the bad people did is not your fault, understand?<<_ He hugged the boy tightly to his chest, hissing the words into his wild curls. _> >Little Snakeling, you are one of the best things that ever happened to me, and I do it all again just to have you.<<_

He nodded to Draco, who had been standing and watching them talk with slightly wide eyes, to let him know everything was alright and to take Teddy out. Then he held his son for a while, just letting the boy know that he loved him and that would never change, no matter how many scars he had.

“So, are you ready to go see where Draco grew up?” he asked after a while. Reggie immediately brightened up and dashed off to get dressed. Harry laughed.

* * *

 

Despite all his worry, Draco found himself unable to keep the smile off his face at breakfast. He was still grinning when Charlie came in, followed by Harry.

“Christmas spirit got you, Draco?” the Weasley teased good-naturedly. Draco only laughed.

“I suppose you could say that,” he answered, not bothered at all. “I’m sorry for keeping you from your family at Christmas-“ he began to say, but Charlie only waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. Harry’s essentially my youngest brother, if mum has anything to say about it, and I’ve told you before you’d be part of this big family of ours.” They looked over at Harry, who was smiling to himself as he dished up breakfast. “There’s something about you that makes him so happy. I don’t know what it is, but if it makes him like that, the least I can do is support you both, you know?” Then he slapped Draco on the back and smiled jovially. “Mind you, mum’s expecting you for Boxing Day and all of New Year’s instead!”

“Well, tell Molly we’ll all four be there when you get a chance!” Harry called. Charlie and Draco both stared at him in shock.

“Four?!” Harry just shrugged.

“It’s time to stop hiding Reggie away. I’m tired of secrets and it isn’t good for him. Besides, he’ll be just as safe at the Burrow as the Manor.” He sat down next to Draco and squeezed his hand. “Mind, I’m not doing any press release until his birthday at least, but isn’t it better for our family to know already?”

‘Our family,’ there it was again. It hit Draco right in the heart with a sort of happy pain. Once, the Weasleys had disgusted him, but now he was overjoyed by the love they showed him, simply because something about him made Harry happy. He could understand how Harry had been drawn to them from the very start. What would he have become if he had grown up in a family like theirs?

Another squeeze of his hand brought him out of his thoughts and he applied himself to his breakfast, eager to go and see his mother again.

When everything was set and they were all gathered in the Floo Room, Draco was positively jangling with nerves. He, Harry and Teddy would go first to greet his mother and prepare her. Ten minutes later, Charlie would come through with Reggie.

And then, who knew what would happen?

Charlie gave him a confident smile as he stepped into the Floo with Harry and Teddy (the terms of his sentence did not permit Flooing alone) and wrapped his arms around them, just as they always did. The flames roared green, and Harry gave him a nod. Draco called out in a strong, excited voice.

“Malfoy Manor!”

* * *

 

As usual, Draco held Harry upright as the spinning stopped and helped him out of the Floo with grace. Then he kissed Harry and Teddy on the cheek, set the boy down, and all but ran to hug his mother.

From the look on Narcissa’s face, Harry gathered that this was an extremely unusual thing to do, but surprise was quickly replaced by a deep joy as she wrapped her arms around her son. Harry suddenly remembered that the last time she had seen him was in St. Mungo’s, pale and comatose in a hospital bed. To see him now, full of life and happiness, must be such a change.

Harry took Teddy’s hand, to keep him from running off, and waited. When Narcissa turned watery eyes to him and offered her hand, Harry bowed deeply and took it in both of his, kissing it. She smiled at him, setting her other hand on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Narcissa,” he murmured.

“Harry, my dear. Thank you,” she said softly, and Harry knew she was thanking him for the light and laughter in her son’s eyes. She crouched to meet Teddy’s shy gaze. “Now, you must be my nephew Teddy.” He nodded, fidgeting slightly. Then he looked up at her, and she gasped. “Oh! What beautiful eyes you have.”

“I made them look like Father’s,” he said quietly, and the look Narcissa gave Harry made him wish he’d told her more about what was coming, especially when the Floo flared again and Charlie stepped out, Reggie hiding behind his stocky legs.

“Mr Weasley! I must say, I was surprised when Harry asked if you could join us for Christmas.” Charlie, who had learned proper manners at his Grandmother Prewett’s knee, bowed and kissed her hand softly.

“Lady Malfoy. I hope my presence is not an inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” she waved his worry away. “There is always plenty of room here. Now,” she looked at Reggie curiously, “who might this be?”

Harry shared a look with Draco and Charlie as he picked the shy boy up. Narcissa’s eyes widened appreciably when she took in his obvious marks of Potter heritage.

“This is my son, Regulus,” he began. Harry wished he could cast his dragon Patronus to test her, as he had for Draco, but knew that would be extremely rude and insulting to the woman he hoped would be his mother-in-law. “Reggie hasn’t met many people before, aside from us and Charlie, his godfather. I’m afraid he’s been kept a secret, due to some…rather unfortunate circumstances.”

Everyone held their breath, waiting, but Narcissa only nodded.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Reggie,” she said with a gentle smile. Reggie buried his face in Harry’s chest, but relaxed when Harry whispered to him in Parseltongue.

_> >It’s ok, little Snakeling. She won’t hurt you, she’s a good person.<<_

Reggie turned to look at Narcissa both curiously and critically.

“She looks like Father,” he decided, which made everyone laugh.

“That’s because she’s my mother,” Draco said, seeing an opening. Harry gave him a discreet nod. “Mother, Harry and I would like the boys to call you Grandmére.”

Harry saw the masked confusion on Charlie’s face and the understanding dawning in Narcissa’s eyes.

“Of course,” she whispered, clutching Draco’s hand. Harry took his cue.

“Teddy, Reggie, this is your Grandmére, Narcissa Malfoy.”

“It’s so very nice to meet you both.”

* * *

 

Draco was beyond relieved at the way his mother had taken everything with her natural grace. They sat together, catching up. Harry, Charlie and the boys had been ushered away to see their rooms by Natty, his mother’s elf.

“Dragon, are you truly happy?” she asked him seriously. He smiled, for once letting all his emotion show to his mother.

“Of course I am, Mother,” he answered. “Harry loves me fiercely, just as I love him. You should know the kind of man he is,” Draco gushed, unable to stop himself. “He’s been through more than anyone knows, enough that he should be a broken wreck, but he’s so strong. He’d give anything for those boys not to grow up like he did. You’ve never known a man that can love as much as Harry does.”

“Then I will support you,” she replied, “and Lucius will as well.” Draco let out a sigh of relief.

“Good. Harry insists on coming with us to visit him, you know.” Narcissa looked at him without a hint of worry in her eyes.

“Then he can see for himself just how devoted you two are,” she answered. “He will not move against your happiness, Dragon. Your father will insist on an heir, though.”

Draco was pleased he already had an answer for that. He knew his father upheld continuing the Malfoy line as a virtue, and Draco was the only heir to the House of Malfoy, a line that extended back to the advisor of William the Conqueror and further.

“He will be pleased, then. I will not let his name die out.”

“Draco, you cannot create a child by Dark means,” Narcissa began, her expression hard, but Draco cut her off.

“Not Dark magic, mother, Olde Magick,” he explained. “Centuries old, perfectly safe, and created for exactly this situation.” Narcissa’s expression lightened and she gave him a relaxed smile.

“Of course. Lucius will be pleased.” Then she abruptly changed topic. “Now, tell me what you do with your days.”

Draco laughed and told her about his new job as a sort of nanny/tutor/father. She wanted to hear all about how he was teaching the boys French and Reggie’s interest in Potions and Teddy’s joy of the outdoors.

When he had given such a detailed account of his lessons that he was sure even an Auror would be overwhelmed, she told him about how she had been redesigning the gardens, redecorating some of the rooms with unfortunate connections to the past, and how she had been connecting with an Aunt of his he didn’t know.

“My Aunt?” he asked. He was sure both his aunts, Andromeda and Bellatrix, were dead.

“Your father’s sister, Livia.”

“Father has a sister?” he exclaimed, his astonishment growing. His mother smiled.

“Yes. She is a few years younger than he is. Your Grandfather Abraxas sent her to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts, where she had the misfortune to fall in with a predator of a professor who was half-Veela and found herself pregnant. Abraxas was already ailing then and deferred to your grandmother, who despised part-creatures and had her and the child disowned. Lucius was twenty then, and he and I had just been married. By the time Abraxas died and the Lordship passed to Lucius, the Dark Lord was already in power and we could do nothing for her, since she would not ally herself in any way with the Dark.”

“I never knew,” Draco murmured. “A cousin, too?”

“A lovely young woman by the name of Aurelia Malfoy. I believe she and Charles Weasley are the same age. Perhaps I should introduce them. The Weasleys have nothing against Veela blood, if their oldest’s marriage is anything to go by.”

“Mother!” he laughed. “You can’t set up people you’ve only hardly met!”

* * *

 

If Harry had expected dinner to be strained, he was happily proved wrong. Narcissa was a wonderful, charming, elegant lady who kept the conversation flowing. She let Charlie chatter on about the dragons he worked with, allowed Reggie (who was quickly warming up to her) to practise his French with her, and was delightfully entertained by Teddy’s show of his Metamorphmagus abilities.

After pudding, Charlie showed surprising tact in taking the boys out to see the gardens, kept up within climate wards, and allowing Harry and the two Malfoys a moment to themselves.

“Regulus?” she asked, startlingly bluntly, after the elf had served coffee.

“Yes,” was all Harry said. He noticed her little jerk of surprise at his cold, final tone, but he was not willing to share his secrets just yet when he didn’t have to. Draco also looked a little shocked.

“Harry?”

“No, Draco.” Harry clenched his fists under the table to keep himself calm, keeping himself from slipping away into memories. “I’m not saying anything else yet. I’ve only just told Reggie this morning, and believe me, if I didn’t have to, I would never have told him in his life. Teddy doesn’t know, Charlie doesn’t know, and if I had my way, no one would ever know. I’m not even going to start down that road now. So yes,” he turned back to Narcissa, “his name his Regulus. Please change the subject.”

Tension was thick in the air as she studied him, and, despite himself, Harry’s hand wandered to rub across the sleeve that hid his tattoo, his lasting reminder of Theo Nott.

“Very well,” she said with a note of forced ease in her voice. “I read the report of the Midwinter Court, and I must say I am very impressed with your reforms, Harry.”

Harry relaxed with a smile and heard Draco let out a breath.

“Thank you. I was hoping to put through more, but support for a young man’s radical ideas is difficult to find among such staunch traditionalists,” he said humbly.

“Old men stuck with their minds in the past and their backsides in their seats,” she dismissed, surprising a laugh from Harry and Draco. “I suppose the changes to the Heir Laws benefit you, as well?”

“Of course,” Harry replied with a smile. “Before, everything I hold would go to Reggie, except possibly the Black Lordship because of the way I received it, regardless of how many sons I have. Now, Teddy can be the next Lord Black, and the others I hold can be spread among Reggie and the sons I hope to have in the future.” A tiny knowing smile graced Narcissa’s face as she looked pointedly at her son. Draco flushed pink and looked to Harry, who held back laughter.

“It’s been said that Lord McFare was the main supporter of your changes,” she said, ignoring her son’s blush.

“Yes, he turned out to be well worth all the posh lunches and bar tabs I paid,” Harry replied slyly, which made both Malfoys, used to such methods of politics, congratulate his Slytherin techniques.

“And you are working towards another presentation at the Midsummer Court?” she asked.

Harry affirmed her thought and explained both his next set of proposals, having to do with magical orphans and the overseeing of the living conditions of any magical children raised by Muggles. She seemed surprised by his conviction and strong goals, things not often seen in Lords his age, and questioned his reasoning behind them.

“I’ll take credit for the ideas, but they belonged to…an old acquaintance of mine. We grew up in very similar situations, but he did not have the power and support that I have, and I’m afraid he tended to be dismissed because of it. Hopefully, I can make the Wizengamot see reason where he couldn’t.”

Narcissa accepted his explanation, but Draco looked at him curiously. Of course, Draco knew exactly what kind of situation he had grown up in, and it would make sense to him if they had always been Harry’s ideas. In fact, they came from the plans a young Tom Riddle had had to better the wizarding world, plans that he had learned from Theo on one of those dark nights in the basement of Riddle House. Harry would take the public credit, though, if only to make them more likely to be accepted.

It was at that point that Charlie and the boys returned, dead tired from an exciting day, and Narcissa insisted they all go to bed and get plenty of rest for the even more exciting day ahead.

* * *

 

Draco woke to a cry of “Happy Christmas!” resounding through his room. Laughing, he sat up to take in the sight of Teddy, Reggie and Harry all sitting on the edge of the massive bed in their pyjamas, an identical expression on their faces.

“Your mother insists we not stand on ceremony and all go down in our sleep clothes,” Harry added happily, making Draco wonder who had replaced his mother in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was having children in the house again.

“Alright,” he agreed, reaching for his dressing gown. “Is Charlie up yet?”

“Should be. I sent that elf to get him. We decided to save our effort for you.”

“Thanks ever so much,” Draco replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes but grinning. “Now, who’s up for presents?”

Teddy, of course, tore off out of the room and down the stairs. Reggie looked to Harry first, but hurried after his brother when his father gave him a grin and a jerk of the head.

“Sure you don’t want to run off down there too?” Draco teased. Harry just laughed.

“Of course I do, but I can actually hold myself back. I never had a real Christmas before I was eleven, so I’m still kind of a child about it. It was such a shock to get presents that year.”

Draco frowned, remembering the stories Harry had told him about his neglect at the hands of his Muggle relatives, but Harry just shook his head and dragged him by the hand out the door.

They were the last to arrive in the green sitting room, where his mother had set up a beautiful tree lit with magical candles. The boys were already happily sorting presents into piles, and Draco was surprised by the number of packages.

“I asked Kreacher to send all our presents over so we could have real Christmas. Molly sent the ones for us and Charlie to Grimmauld and Kreacher passed them along as well, so don’t be expecting anything tomorrow!” he teased, squeezing Draco in next to him on a small couch. Teddy dumped packages in his and Harry’s laps, while Reggie carefully convey his sortings to Charlie and Narcissa. Everyone watched as the boys went first, Teddy tearing the paper off his in a hurry, Reggie with care and examining each present, saying a quiet thank-you to the giver.

“That’s what Christmas was always like for me,” Draco whispered to Harry, pointing at Reggie. “I was always taught to be calm and collected. Really, I just wanted to be like Teddy most of the time.”

“Reggie might just get that from me,” Harry answered. “Gifts have always been special to me.”

In the end, Teddy had received a collar with an Enlargement Charm for his wolf familiar Romulus, some new clothes, a picture book of magical plants from Draco, and a photo album of his mother Harry had found among Andromeda’s things when she died earlier in the year. Narcissa seemed curious and sad about the niece she never got to know and asked Teddy to look at the album with him later.

Reggie also received new clothes, mostly in green, a fact that made Harry smile. From Draco he got a beginner’s potion instrument kit, his own that he had found in storage the day before, and from Charlie he received a miniature Hungarian Horntail model that strutted and preened and puffed smoke to everyone’s amusement. Both boys also were given boxes of sweets, with Charlie and Harry making sure that Reggie wasn’t left out just because he was a secret.

The rest of the present opening was calmer, but no less joyous. Narcissa gushed over the elf-made champagne and delicate gold necklace Harry gave her. Harry and Charlie both proudly donned their traditional Weasley jumpers, Harry’s emerald green and Charlie’s an extravagant black-and-white check pattern. They laughed as Draco opened his, made of a lovely soft grey wool with tasteful deep green accents at the cuffs and hem. Harry also laughed uproariously at the combined gift from Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, who sent him a potted dirigible plum bush with a wedding invitation stuck to it. Neville also asked him to be his best man, which delighted Harry to no end.

It was Harry’s gift to Draco that made everyone fall silent. Draco’s breath caught when he opened the box to find Severus’s copy of Advanced Potion Making and an empty portrait frame, into which sidled the man himself.

“Uncle Sev,” Draco whispered.

“Hello, Draco,” the man drawled, but Draco could see the warmth in his painted eyes. “Yes, Merry Christmas, I suppose. I’m sure Potter can explain things to you.” Then he walked out again.

“I went to talk to him at Hogwarts and he agreed to have a portrait made for you,” Harry said softly. “I know he was your godfather. Now you can talk to him without worrying about sides in a war. As for the book, I don’t really know how it survived. I just know that I required it, so the Room gave it to me. I stopped questioning the magic of Hogwarts a long time ago.”

Draco could only hug Harry tightly, hiding his wet eyes in the other man’s shoulder while Narcissa whispered a soft thanks.

* * *

 

After Draco’s emotional present, Harry thought the drama of the morning was over. Instead, Reggie handed him one last present, a small thing.

“It’s from Regulus,” he said, referring to his portrait-father. The two talked nearly every day, and Regulus Black’s portrait had been moved to its proper place in the family gallery. “Me and Kreacher helped, but he didn’t let us see what it was.” The boy frowned and added, “he said it talks like we do.”

Harry was mystified as he regarded the little thing. What could Regulus Black have for him that spoke Parseltongue? Surely that was what he meant, since Harry and Reggie were the only speakers alive anymore.

He pulled off the paper to find a pocket portrait, the kind that was no bigger than his palm and folded shut, enamelled in a deep green that was almost black. He opened the silver catch cautiously, aware of everyone staring at him. Inside was a portrait of a scowling young man with dark ringlets and a silver plate inscribed with the initials TMR and the year 1926.

 _> >Hello?<<_ the portrait hissed. Harry snapped it shut again.

“Oh, Merlin,” he breathed out. He stood on shaky legs. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” he said. “Boys, stay with Charlie and Draco, alright?”

“Daddy?” Reggie asked, tugging on his dressing gown.

 _> >Stay,<<_ Harry hissed at his son. Reggie looked down, properly chastised. Harry usually didn’t speak Parseltongue unless he was very serious.

Only once he was back in Draco’s old suite did Harry open the portrait again.

 _> >Back again, I see,<<_ Riddle hissed, annoyed. _> >First person I’ve seen in years and you’re afraid of my face.<<_

 _> >Shut up,<<_ Harry replied, making Riddle’s eyes go wide. Eyes the same ice blue colour that could be found in Reggie’s, he noted.

_> >You speak!<<_

_> >Yes, I speak. The Peverell gift didn’t die with you, hurray,<<_ he snarked. _> >How much do you know? About your life, I mean.<<_

 _> >What else would you ask about, how much I know about Quidditch?<<_ Riddle replied sarcastically. _> >Haven’t you developed a brain yet, Potter?<<_

“You know everything, then,” Harry realised. “Well, if you’re going to be a raging mad man, I’m warning you that I will burn you, gift or not.”

“Just because I remember everything doesn’t mean I act the same, you know,” the portrait pointed out snidely. “It’s impossible for a painting to be insane. In this state, it’s like I never created any Horcruxes at all, but I still have all my memories. Some of them are rather shocking…” he trailed off, more to himself than Harry, but Harry knew what he needed to know. This was not Voldemort, not really. It was Tom Riddle, the way Theo’s grandfather had known him. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Do you remember planning a ritual,” he began carefully, “that would use Regulus Black’s blood?”

“Of course I do.” Riddle sounded a little put out that he was still being doubted. “I was going to make a strong heir. Then I created the diadem Horcrux and lost the idea, in a way. Why do you ask?” His gaze was sharp and piercing.

“After you died, a few of your more fervent supporters decided to carry out your plan after all, but with a few adjustments.” He watched as the information sunk in and made connections. Suddenly, Riddle’s eyes went wide. Harry remembered Regulus doing the same thing, and was again glad that paintings couldn’t faint.

“I have a son!”

 _> >We have a son,<<_ he corrected, bringing even bigger eyes, _> >along with Regulus Black.<<_

 _> >Three sires? How is that possible?!<<_ Harry sighed.

“Apparently we’re both stronger than even we ever realised,” he said. “I don’t really understand it myself, but it lists all three of us as his parents on the Black Family Tapestry, and magic like that is never wrong.”

“What is the boy’s name?” Riddle asked quietly. Harry smiled.

“Reggie. Properly, it’s Regulus Harridan Gaunt Potter, Heir to the Houses of Gaunt and Peverell and the waiting Earl of Slytherin.”

“Earl?!” Riddle exclaimed, then let loose a blistering torrent of curses in Parseltongue that made Harry cluck.

“Might want to watch that around Reggie,” he said, feeling cheeky. “He speaks just as well as you and I.”

“Will you let me meet him someday?” Harry was surprised at just how timid Riddle seemed.

“Someday,” he promised.

* * *

 

Draco paced, worried. When he had gone to get dressed for brunch, Harry had passed him at the door to their room, already dressed. He said he wanted to walk through the gardens for a while. Draco knew from the tension around his eyes that something had happened, something that Harry needed to think about, and something definitely related to the last gift he had gotten.

His mother forced him to sit and eat, but he was too distracted to talk much. He never noticed Reggie cringing away from him, afraid he had made both his fathers angry with the gift. Thankfully, Charlie did, and he assured the boy that Draco was only worried about Harry and how surprised he had been. No one had ever seen him so surprised before.

As soon as Harry appeared, Draco was out of his seat and in front of him.

“Harry?”

Harry met his gaze squarely and set something down on the table. It was a miniature portrait, the kind that folded up, and one made with extraordinary craftsmanship. It was a deep green colour with silver hinges and catch and inlaid with silver filigree.

“Who?” he asked, voicing the question everyone was thinking.

“That,” Harry said slowly, feigning calm, “is the only portrait in existence of the once Lord Voldemort.” Narcissa gasped, and Charlie and Draco shied away from it. Harry continued. “He has all his memories from his life, but he also has his sanity. He regrets what he became and understands if I never open it again.”

“What are you going to do?” Draco asked. Harry sighed.

“Keep it. He truly isn’t insane, and-“ he cut himself off, but Draco could finished his sentence in his mind.

‘And for Reggie’s sake.’ Just like he had spoken to Regulus Black.

“So!” Harry said suddenly, sliding the miniature back into his pocket. “Let’s all eat so Charlie can get home with the boys and we can get on with our day!”

“Why do we have to do home, Daddy?” Teddy asked, very close to whining.

“Because you can’t go with Father and Grandmere and I,” Harry replied in a no-nonsense sort of tone. Draco took pity on the pouting boy.

“We’re going to visit someone you don’t know in a place that isn’t very nice. Even if you could go, you wouldn’t want to,” he explained. “But,” he said conspiratorially, “maybe if you ask very nicely, Grandmere will let you guys and Charlie wait for us here instead, and we can have dinner with her before we go home.”

Both boy immediately started in on Narcissa in their sweetest voices. She made a show of thinking it over, but winked at Draco to show she’d heard when she gave in.

“Call for Natty if you need anything, Charles,” she said, formal in spite of Charlie’s protests. “Now, we should be going. The Ministry does rather frown upon late arrivals.”

In the politest, most lady-like and graceful manner possible, she gathered up Draco and Harry, who was still trying to fit one last bite of croissant into his mouth, and bustled them off to the Floo. She went first, calling for the “Ministry of Magic!” Draco followed with Harry, whose nerves only showed in how tightly he was gripping Draco’s hand.


	2. Azkaban

Kingsley’s deep laugh reverberated through the office as Draco kept Harry upright.

“Still?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Never,” Harry replied ruefully as he shook the Minister’s hand, bringing more laughter from the large man. “Happy Christmas, Kingsley. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I’m afraid I’m still just an Auror at heart,” the Minister replied. “I couldn’t resist coming myself. Besides,” he added seriously, “you know not everyone has the same opinion of Malfoys as you or I. I thought this was the best way to avoid any…mishaps.”

Harry nodded and stepped forward as Kingsley gestured them all toward the portkey.

“Everyone touching it? Someone got a good hold on Harry?” Draco smirked, Harry rolled his eyes, and Kingsley chuckled. “Right then, three, two, one, _portus_.”

They landed (Harry again held upright, to his burning shame) on a rocky beach, buffeted by a cold wind. Grey stone walls faced them, wet with salt spray, and the rushing sound of wind was occasionally broken by the high screams and manic laughter of the insane. Draco clutched his hand with white knuckles, and Harry returned the pressure, hoping against hope to be able to stay strong.

Kingsley ushered them silently through the door and to the wand-checking station, where the combined cold glare from him and Harry wiped the sneer from the face of the attending Auror-Guard as Narcissa and Harry surrendered their wands. The Minister was allowed his, and, of course, Draco was not permitted to carry one yet. Narcissa shivered, and Harry let go of Draco to drape his own cloak around her.

That was the moment when the first Dementor passed, before Kingsley had a chance to cast his lynx Patronus. As the chill crept into Harry’s bones in a way he had not felt in years, he felt his balance waver. Then, he was lost to the memories, like he was every time since his first encounter at thirteen.

His father’s voice came first, telling his mother to run; the Sirius was falling through the Veil and Remus was holding him back; Remus and Tonks laid out among the dead on the floor of the Great Hall, with Fred and Colin and Lavender, and Snape dying in the Shrieking Shack; pain licked along his nerves and burned across his chest, the memory of torture in the basement of Riddle House, and Theo lay dead in the graveyard, eyes open to the stars, the first one he had ever truly loved; blood pooled on the floor around him as he stared into Draco’s shocked silver eyes, a choking gasp that echoed in the tiny space and would never stop ringing in his ears; then his mother screamed and Voldemort laughed and everything fell into blackness…

* * *

 

It was the Minister who caught Harry. Draco had forgotten the events of their third year, when the Dementors came to Hogwarts and Harry nearly fell to his death, but Shacklebolt had not. As soon as he felt the chill, he leaped towards Harry to cushion him before he hit the stone below. Only after he had Harry in his arms did he cast his Patronus, some sort of big cat. It had happened so quickly Draco and his mother had barely had time to feel the chill set in.

But they didn’t have Harry’s past, or his memories.

As Shacklebolt directed his Patronus, Draco took hold of Harry, shaking him lightly, but Harry didn’t wake until the Dementor was out of sight entirely and the air had gained back its fractional warmth. Haunted green eyes stared up at him, burning with shame and anger and pain that no one living could ever understand.

“Alright, Harry?” the Minister asked, offering up a Chocolate Frog from a deep pocket.

“Will be,” Harry croaked. “Probably not until I get home, but I will be.” He shook his head at the frog and hugged Draco close instead. Narcissa and Shacklebolt looked away studiously in an attempt to give them some sort of privacy. Harry buried his face in his neck. “It’s gotten worse,” he said in an emotionless voice. “One Patronus is only enough to bring me back to consciousness, it doesn’t stop the memories.”

After a moment he stepped back, turning to the Minister with a smirk.

“What are the chances you’ll allow me to cast my own Patronus, Kingsley?” he asked. Shacklebolt looked askance at him.

“You know I can’t allow you to carry a wand inside the prison,” he said ruefully, but Harry’s expression didn’t change.

“And if I could do it without a wand?”

“Ah,” the Minister smiled. “Then I might just be surprised and impressed enough to forget myself and allow it, as the rules for wandless magic are remarkably open to interpretation.”

Harry cupped his hands in front of him, and silver light poured from the cracks in his fingers. Shacklebolt watched in fascination, Narcissa in wonder. Harry’s eyes flicked up to meet Draco’s shining with love, and he opened his palms to gently blow the light from them.

Glittering silver flowed from his hands, spinning and growing until it formed the shape of a huge dragon. Shacklebolt whistled appreciably as the Horntail Patronus rubbed the side of its scaly head against Harry’s chest, then turned sinuously to press its snout to Draco’s forehead. Draco gasped at the feeling of joy and love that rushed into him.

“Merlin…” Narcissa whispered.

“Indeed, yes,” the Minister agreed. “Right, well, now that that’s sorted out, shall we proceed?”

Harry’s Patronus was a thing of beauty, winding its way through the damp stone halls and around their little group. It radiated love and joy, so much that Narcissa walked with spring in her step and Dementors fled before them. Even the prisoners, some of them lost in their madness, smiled faintly as it passed them.

When they stopped in front of Lucius’s cell, the great dragon took up a place behind them, looming over Harry and protecting his back. It struck Draco again how protective Harry was, to his core, and how little people deserved his protecting.

But then the Minister unlocked the door and Draco found himself with much more pressing concerns.

* * *

 

Harry braced himself at the door to Lucius’s cell. The reaction of the man inside could pretty much make or break him and his relationship with Draco. He let go of Draco’s hand, ignoring the odd look he received, and stepped through to stand just behind him.

Lucius looked as awful as any Azkaban prisoner would be expected, but he stood straight and tall as he met them. Harry noted his composed face and was glad he had not lost his pride at always maintaining an appearance of strength. Harry himself was intimately familiar with the practice of never giving away a weakness.

He was even happier to note that he had lost the brunt of his cold demeanour, he decided, watching the man hold his wife tightly in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Lucius,” she said in a slightly choked voice.

“Narcissa,” he replied softly, his tone so full of love that it made Harry embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable to watch, like a private reunion between lovers. Then he stretched out a hand to Draco, who stuttered out his own greeting, and pulled him in with one arm, and it made Harry’s heart swell and his Patronus shine even brighter to see the three of them together.

Judging by the way Lucius’s eyes widened, Harry figured he must have made quite the sight, standing there with a great bloody dragon wrapped around him, his hand on its scaly crest. He knew it took a lot of power to make a Patronus tangible, but apparently he’d again underestimated how rare his own ability was. He sighed.

“Lord Malfoy,” he greeted pleasantly, dipping his head a bit and extending his head. Lucius eyed him for a moment before letting go of Draco to take it. Narcissa’s hand remained firmly in his.

“Mr Potter,” he returned, remaining ramrod straight.

“Lucius, dear…” Narcissa began, no doubt to correct him on the proper title, but Harry waved it away with a smile. Though, he purposefully waved the hand with the Potter ring (he only wore the Gryffindor ring when dealing with the Wizengamot, the hierarchical bastards) on it, pleased when Lucius’s eyes flicked down to it briefly.

“It seems I have made a mistake, Lord Potter,” he said, somewhat coolly.

“No insult was meant or taken,” Harry replied, and Lucius accepted his forgiveness with a rather stiff shallow bow.

“I have a great deal to thank you for, Lord Potter,” he began. Harry let him speak, noticing the tension around his mouth and knowing an interruption would not be taken well. “I gather it was your influence among the Wizengamot that greatly reduced my…stay here, as well as allowed me this visit. I must also thank you for keeping my son out of a similar…unpleasant situation. I must admit myself in your debt.”

“The only repayment I wish is for you and your family to be happy. I will not even demand your gratitude, though I will accept it freely given. It pleases me to use my place in the Wizengamot for what I perceive as right.” The formal, political way of speaking felt heavy on his tongue, stiff and uncomfortable as starched pants. Harry despised it, but he knew he needed it now. Lucius Malfoy was the kind of man to judge worth very quickly, and Harry needed to leave a good impression, to impress him, if he wanted to have any hope of a good relationship with the man he would hopefully one day be related to.

“Very well,” Lucius’s eyes lingered on the dragon Patronus, flicking for just an instant to his son. “To what do I owe this visit from you, Lord Potter?” Harry looked at Draco too, who nodded and stepped forward to his (dragon free) side and took his hand, linking their fingers together.

“Harry asked to come with me, Father,” Draco said in a voice stronger than Harry had expected it to be, “since we decided to spend our first Christmas as a family.” Lucius tensed even further (which Harry hadn’t thought was possible), but Narcissa spoke first.

“We all had a lovely time this morning at the Manor.”

To anyone else, it might have sounded like an inane statement to make then, but they all recognised it for what it was: Narcissa’s show of support and warning to her husband not to speak rashly. Lucius looked down at her with a small frown.

“Lord Potter, could I have a moment to speak with my family?”

“Of course,” Harry replied. He stepped out, passing Kingsley as he stood inconspicuously in the corner, who nodded to him. The dragon Patronus settled down by the door, probably so it could give the greatest amount of protection to him and the family inside the cell. Harry himself leaned against the wall beside it, letting the coldness of the stone sink into his skin, and tried not to worry.

It didn’t work very well.

* * *

 

“Draco,” Lucius began, and Draco fought down the urge to beat his head off the stone wall beside him. “What are you doing? You are involved with the person who has custody over you. With a man!”

“Father,” he broke in, “with all due respect, I don’t think you understand.” Lucius puffed up, but Draco hurried on before he could speak. “I know exactly what I am doing. I’m doing what makes me happy. No offense, Father, but I think I can tell what makes me happy better than you can.”

There was heavy silence in the little cell as Draco dared, for the first time in his life, to stand up to his father. Lucius seemed to tower over him, even in his gaunt form, draped with ragged prison robes, but Draco didn’t back down. He remembered when Reggie called him ‘Father’ for the first time, when he heard Harry tell Ginevra why he loved him. He thought about the quiet mornings when they both lay in bed without talking, just watching the sun rise over London, and he stared his father in the eye.

Lucius gave a tiny nod, and the tension dissipated. Still waiting on the inevitable confrontation, Draco was shocked when his father smiled instead and Narcissa leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Very well, Draco,” he conceded. Draco frowned.

“Father?”

“I’ll not fight you on this,” Lucius explained. “You have finally become a man, and if it takes Harry Potter to make you stand up for yourself, then so be it. Besides,” he squeezed Narcissa’s hand and looked down at her, “I haven’t seen your mother so happy in many years, and that can only be because of your own happiness.”

“I…thank you, Father,” he stumbled out, still a bit shocked.

“I still have my reservations, of course,” Lucius added, and no one was surprised at that. “Potter is very different from us. He was raised differently, and I do not think he will adapt easily to our world. And then there is the problem of heirs to consider, if you two decide to make your relationship permanent.”

“Lucius, dear,” Narcissa cut in softly, her voice endlessly polite but strong as steel, “Lord Potter is the most influential member of the Wizengamot, and only part of that comes from his war hero status.”

Lucius raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but Draco motioned that he would explain. Going to the door of the cell, he dragged a confused Harry back inside by the hand.

“Father, I would like you to meet Lord Harridan Potter, Earl of Gryffindor and Lord of many other Houses besides,” he said pompously, but he grinned at Harry, “and the man I am in love with.” Harry smiled back at him, taking his hand. The dragon Patronus that had followed him glowed even brighter. “Harry, I would like to formally introduce you to my father, Lord Lucius Malfoy of the House of Malfoy.”

“It is an honour to meet your Lordship,” Harry said to Lucius, who appeared to be struck dumb.

Draco was happy that his father stood back and seemed to take Harry in again. He knew his lover struck an imposing picture with his straight back and piercing gaze, not to mention the bloody dragon Patronus looming behind him. Draco was proud to stand beside such a strong and independent man, and he hoped it showed when his father looked at him.

“A pleasure to meet you to, Lord Potter,” Lucius decided, extending his hand again. When they shook, there was a sense in the tiny cell of the dawn of a new age, that the war might finally be behind them all.

* * *

 

“There is still the matter of heirs, Draco.” Harry almost grinned at the return of the Lucius he had expected.

“With all due respect, sir,” he interrupted, “there are ways to produce an heir between two magicals without need of a woman. They are Olde Magick, sir, and perfectly safe.”

Draco squeezed his hand. Harry wanted to say more, wanted to show Lucius the same trust he had shown Narcissa, but he didn’t quite have the trust to show yet, and there was the matter of Kingsley standing in the corner, required to listen to everything they said.

“I can still have a son to carry the Malfoy name,” Draco assured his father. “What’s more, I can have him with Harry. We can be like any other couple that has children together.”

Harry could see the definite softening in Lucius’s manor as his last hesitation was swept away. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he smiled at Harry.

“Well then. Lord Potter, I look forward to getting to know you,” he said sincerely. Harry gave him a little bow in response.

“As do I, sir,” he slid his arm around Draco’s waist as the blond pressed a kiss to his cheek. “As do I.”

They passed the remainder of the visit talking pleasantly. Lucius seemed especially interested in news from the Wizengamot and the recent Midwinter Court, which Harry happily provided. He was impressed by the reforms Harry had gotten through, congratulating him on pulling the traditionalist court into the modern age a step, even if it was kicking and screaming.

When the time came to leave, sad goodbyes were said all around. As Harry shook Lucius’s hand once again, his dragon Patronus approached. During the visit it had stayed behind Harry, though it was large enough to wrap around all their backs. Now, it came up level with Lucius and circled him, studying him the same way it had studied Draco when he had come to Grimmauld Place.

Lucius looked curiously back, turning his head to follow its silent movements. As it crouched in front of him again, it mimed a snort of acceptance and nodded to him, then opened its mouth and breathed out a transparent silver cloud, making Lucius glitter for an instant before it disappeared.

If anyone else noticed the way Harry was clutching at Draco in shock, they made no sign of it. Lucius closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When he opened them again, there was a light in them that had been missing before. The little lines of tension vanished.

“A truly impressive Patronus, Lord Potter,” he said softly, giving a real bow from his waist. “Thank you.”

Kingsley finally managed to usher them out of the cell and back down the hallways to collect their wands. No one spoke, but they all tended to gather near Harry’s Patronus, while Kingsley’s lynx went on ahead.

It was a silent process to get their wands back, portkey back to the Ministry and Floo from their back to Malfoy Manor.

When Draco went to find Charlie and the boys, Narcissa turned to Harry.

“What did you do to my husband?” she asked softly. Harry shook his head in confusion.

“It was me that did it,” he explained. “The dragon represents another part of myself that’s very protective. It just gives a form to that part of me.” He didn’t add that that part was his dragon Animagus form, but it was true. An Animagus’s form was tied to the witch or wizard, but it was effectively another creature sometimes, and dragons were very independent animals. “I think it shared some of the love it was made up of with him.” He shrugged. “It liked him, and it wanted to make him happy.”

Narcissa smiled at him.

“I’m glad. It’s made me happy, too.”

Harry kissed her cheek in return.

“Merry Christmas, Narcissa.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry, dear.”


End file.
